Revenge Read online

  My trust, however, was still up in the air.

  Two

  Edward

  It wasn’t that late when I retired for the night, but with the jet lag and the time change it felt late. Celia had managed to sneak in a nap after lunch, excusing herself when Genny left to work on her studies. Hagan remained to talk business and ended up staying through dinner. He’d worked at Accelecom even before he’d graduated from university, and I’d always had the intention of training him to follow in my footsteps. It had been convenient having him around the past year when I’d made frequent trips to Amelie to visit Celia, and he’d handled the tasks I’d given him quite well.

  That didn’t mean he was privy to everything.

  I had inherited the mistakes of my father, but I would not pass them onto my progeny. Thus Hagan was involved with my company, but he was not involved with my revenge. And right now that was the business that was front and center in my mind so his visit had walked the line between tedium and productivity.

  “Young Mr. Fasbender is gone?” Jeremy asked from the doorway of my office, likely wanting to lock the house up and prepare for the night.

  “He is.” I shut my computer down and stood. “My wife has already gone up. I’m headed now as well.”

  “Don’t forget you promised Master Freddie you’d check in on him.”

  My nephew was often more attached to me when I’d been away. He’d come into my office, despite the rule that it was an off-limits space, begging for a bedtime story. It had been tempting to give in. The Little Engine That Could was more entertaining than discussing television market opportunities of the Czech Republic, if only barely, but Hagan needed my attention. Freddie wasn’t the only one more attached when I’d been away.

  I’d managed to mollify the little boy by promising to peek in on him before I retired.

  “Thank you for the reminder,” I said, though I hadn’t forgotten. “I’ll head up there first.”

  I took the stairs two at a time, continuing past the floor that held my bedroom space to go to the top level of the house. These rooms had belonged to Hagan and Genevieve when they were younger, but for the past several years, Camilla had resided in them, and now I thought of them as her apartments. As such, I rarely ventured up there, and it felt somewhat like trespassing as I stepped onto the landing.

  Quietly, so as not to disturb my sister, I walked through the playroom to the door ajar on the far end. Ghosts of the past hovered in the corners of the space, bidding me to remember other trips to the nursery, long ago, when I’d had a different wife and a different life. Then, the days had remained hectic, even after I’d left the office, the energy of corporate doings replaced with the energy of small children. There had been no such thing as downtime, and when I looked back on it now, it seemed like they must have been the primary occupation of my existence.

  But I didn’t have any evidence to back that up.

  In fact, the evidence that I did have—the business I’d built, the instances of justice I’d carried out, the woman I’d chosen when I’d remarried—all pointed to an existence that was quite the contrary. Had my children been as frontmost in my life as they should have been? Had I given them the time and attention they deserved?

  They certainly were smart, competent, well-adjusted young adults, but the plaguing doubt that I’d been a subpar parent might have been what drove me now to be so attentive to Freddie, even though he wasn’t my own.

  The boy was fast asleep, as I’d known he would be. I retrieved his ragged bunny from the floor and tucked it under his arm before pulling the covers up. Then, after sweeping two fingers gently across his forehead, I switched off the bedside lamp and crept back out, shutting the door behind me.

  “Oh, good. I caught you.” Camilla stood in the doorway on the other side of the playroom, where the hallway led to her bedroom suite.

  I cursed under my breath. Eventually, I knew I’d have to talk to her, but I’d hoped to put it off, at least until I’d had a good night’s rest.

  Perhaps I still could. “Shh,” I said, using Freddie as my excuse. “You’ll wake him.”

  She shook her head. “He sleeps like the dead, and you know it. You can’t use him to get out of talking to me.”

  The problem with being close to my sister was that it was very hard to get away with anything.

  “Would you prefer to come into my sitting room for this?” she asked, knowing she had me completely where she wanted me.

  I preferred not to be doing this at all.

  “Here will be fine.” Standing would be easier to insure it was quick.

  “Have it your way.” She folded her arms over her chest, clearly not pleased with my choice. “Now, don’t get cross with me for asking, because I’m only looking out for you...”

  I’d found that the most irritating conversations began with “Don’t get cross,” and I had to take a beat before urging her on. “Go ahead.”

  “So it wasn’t Warren Werner who brought down father’s company. If you’re certain of that, then I can be too. But how can you be certain that Celia isn’t in this marriage to help him take you down now?”

  It was a reasonable question, and one that had merit considering how little Camilla knew about the situation and my relationship with my wife. “Her father is no longer in control of Werner Media,” I explained. Even though he was no longer my target, this fact still stung. “He’s acting CEO, but his power is limited. He doesn’t have the ability to make a move on me in his current position.”

  “Okay,” Camilla processed the information faster than I had. “Then what about the uncle? How can you be sure she isn’t going to warn him of any of your plans?”

  “I can be certain.” It could have been enough. Camilla would drop it with my assurances, but I wanted her to know more. I wanted her to understand, not just the predicament but Celia.

  So, at the risk of betraying my wife’s confidence, I gave Camilla what she needed to put the pieces together. “Let’s just say she feels about him the way you felt about Mitch.”

  Mitch Ferris, the man who’d physically abused my sister when she was in his care through the foster system.

  “Ah.” Her features softened as her body wrapped more tightly. “I thought I recognized...something…”

  It had been nearly impossible to see the effects of Celia’s abuse when I’d first met her, but the woman she was now was much more transparent. She would hate it if she realized she no longer masked those secrets as she once had, but I was glad that she’d revealed enough of herself to possibly start a bond with Camilla.

  Now my sister just needed to be decent about it. “Then you’ll be nice?” I prodded.

  “I’ll be nice.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I should move out.”

  My reaction was immediate. “No. This is your home. This is Freddie’s home.”

  “It’s your home. And now it’s her home, and we’re only intruders.”

  “You are not.” But even as I insisted, I knew she was right. If I had any intention of making a marriage with Celia—and I did—then it had to be a real marriage. There wasn’t any place for in-laws in the home of a real newlywed couple.

  “It’s for the best to do this sooner rather than later,” Camilla continued. “Easier on Freddie when he’s young.”

  I looked behind me at the closed door, thinking of the child beyond it. Thinking of his mother and the circumstances that had brought her pregnant and alone to my house.

  Hideous circumstances. Circumstances that tended to have a long-lasting effect.

  “It’s too soon,” I said, suddenly intent on protecting her, no matter the cost.

  “Too soon after Frank?” Her tone said she thought the idea was rubbish. “It’s been four years. Do you really think me that fragile?”

  “I didn’t mean that.” I didn’t know what I meant. It wasn’t as though she still needed protecting. We were long past that.

  She smiled slightly. Knowingly. As tho
ugh she understood my meaning even if I didn’t. “There’s a bond between people who share a secret, Eddie. We won’t lose ours just because I have a different address.”

  Was that all this was? Me, afraid that we’d somehow grow apart?

  Perhaps that was some of it. But there was more, and she seemed to sense that as well.

  She crossed the room midway then stopped. “I’m all right with it. With what we did, okay? I’ve never said that, I realize, and I should have way before now. Honestly, I try not to think about it very often because I hate to think of myself as someone who has ambiguous morals, but I’m all right with it. I don’t regret that it happened, and I know you don’t either. So let’s put it behind us, once and for all. All right?”

  I had already put her husband and the details of his death behind me. It had been easy. But I was a man who’d built an identity on seeking justice. I’d lost my soul to that devil long ago. Camilla still had hers, and I feared that if she actually did put Frank behind her, that would be the day that she lost it.

  Then again, that might be the cost of learning to live again.

  It wasn’t my road to walk, and as much as I wanted to preside over her journey, I could see it was time to let those reins go. “Do what you feel you need to do,” I said, finally. “But let it go on record that I didn’t push you out.”

  “What, Edward Fasbender? Push his little sister out of his life? Never.” She laughed and so I chuckled too, despite the painful reminder of what I’d done to her in the name of vengeance in the past.

  The worst part? I’d do it again. Every time.

  The bedroom was empty when I got there. Even though the lights were off, I checked the closet and the bathroom before opening the door that adjoined mine and the one Celia had slept in before we’d married. Marion’s old room.

  I found her sitting on the bed, rubbing lotion onto her long limbs. Instantly, my trousers were uncomfortably tight.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, wondering why she’d chosen to primp here instead of in our bedroom.

  “I’m getting ready for bed.”

  “In here?”

  “In my room, yes.”

  “No, no, no.” I shook my head vehemently. We’d been sleeping together regularly for the last couple of months, whenever we were together anyway. It was possible she’d assumed that being in this house meant returning to the previous arrangement, but it was more likely that she knew that wasn’t the case and just wanted to hear me say it. “You can keep this space as your sitting room, if you like. I honestly don’t care, but you will sleep with me.”

  “That wasn’t what was negotiated before we got married.” Her smirk gave her away.

  I hated being manipulated, particularly being manipulated into displays of affection, and I was tempted to leave her where she was and retire alone, simply so she’d understand that I wouldn’t play her little game.

  But the truth was, I would play her little game. I liked it, even. Playing her little games meant she’d play my much more significant games, and that was where the fun really happened between us.

  I gave her a stern scowl instead. “Those terms are null and void, and you know it. Now, unless you prefer sleeping in here—in which case we’ll have quite a row about it that I will win—”

  “I don’t prefer it.”

  “Then get your pretty little ass over there where it belongs. Speaking of, I believe I need to turn it red after the way you spoke to me in front of my sister earlier.”

  She stood and moved toward me and the door leading to our bedroom. “So the separate bedroom terms are null and void, but the respect you in all instances term is still valid? Who says I’m on board with that?”

  My jaw clamped tight. There could still very well be a row in our future. Several, even. We’d come into our arrangement under false pretenses, but we’d shared a lot in our time on the island. I’d hoped that what we’d established in our time there would be easily transportable. Part of me had believed we might be able to come home and just be who we were together without any fuss.

  But not only was that an overly optimistic scenario, it wasn’t the one I honestly preferred. I enjoyed setting boundaries. I enjoyed even more when they were somewhat confining. Mostly, I enjoyed pushing them until she saw how much she appreciated that they’d been set up for her in the first place.

  That’s when things got interesting.

  “Tomorrow night, we will set new terms,” I said, allowing her the illusion that she would have room to negotiate. “That doesn’t get you out of what happens tonight. No matter what you thought about the terms of our relationship, I know you were fully aware that I would be displeased when you voiced opposition to my method of handling Camilla.”

  “Was I fully aware?” she asked, her lips puckering into a taunt. “Hmm.”

  She sashayed past me into our bedroom, drawing my attention to the ass I meant to have under my palm soon. I followed with a stiff cock, half from anticipation and half from the sight of her. The nightshirt she wore invited the most improper thoughts. It was pink and girly and made her look young. So, so young. I felt indecent even looking at her.

  Her sauciness only added to the need to dominate her.

  “I guess I was being naughty then. The question is, what are you going to do about it?” She sat on the bed, her arms braced behind her.

  Her flippancy was adorable and irritating both at once. Consequences for lack of respect was not something I ever treated lightly, and I didn’t intend to now. It was possible to take advantage of the sex kitten while also reminding her of her place. I just had to get her ass bare and bend her over my knee.

  But then she gasped, her face suddenly going pale.

  She stood, her eyes wide and drawn to the far wall. As though she couldn’t believe what she was looking at, she went closer, her expression more aghast with each step.

  I kept my own gaze glued to her, not needing to see what she was looking at. I already knew. I’d been the one to put it there. I’d even known she’d likely have a reaction when she saw it, which was the reason I’d put it up in the first place.

  What I hadn’t known was what kind of reaction she’d have.

  Yes, this was where things got interesting.

  “It was with your belongings when I had them sent from the States,” I said, my eyes never leaving her. This painting had been wrapped differently than any of her others with more care and attention. The assumption could be that it was important to her, but when I opened it up and discovered what the painting depicted, I guessed it was more complicated than just being important.

  “Blanche Martin gave it to me,” she said, her voice raw. “I’d been trying to convince her that I was going to get her art in some rich guy’s house. It was a stupid scheme, and anyway... She brought this one to show me personally. I didn’t want it, but I could hardly give it back to her. I should have thrown it out. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

  I glanced at the country garden scene, at the path that wandered off into the distance, at the swing that hung from the branches of the centermost tree.

  “It makes you think of your uncle,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

  She nodded, her chin trembling.

  I’d supposed as much. She’d told me that was how he’d begun his grooming of her at the age of seven. He’d built her a swing large enough for him to sit with her on it. He’d referred to it as their special place as he’d held her inappropriately on his lap.

  “It’s confusing, really. Because the memories of being on that swing were actually quite good ones. I was too young to understand what his end goal was or that the way he treated me wasn’t right.” She swallowed then turned her gaze to me. “It’s only with what happened in later years that the garden memories soured, and they didn’t sour in the way they should have. I should see this and feel nothing but rage and horror, but I don’t. I see that swing…” She shifted to stare at the painting again. “And I remember what it felt like to
fly, what it felt like to be free. And then I feel guilty and wrong because it’s all associated with him and he made my life a mess.”

  My little bird was wounded. She had been for so long, her wings damaged and torn, but she’d kept it hidden until I forced her to let it be seen. Now, she needed to learn to fly again, and she would. I swore to it with every passing breath.

  She turned all the way around, putting her back to the painting. “I know you couldn’t have known. But could you please take it down?”

  I paused, even though I knew my answer. I’d had the painting before she’d told me the story, but I hadn’t opened it until I’d been preparing for her to move back with me. As soon as I’d seen it, the words of her story had come back to me, and while I didn’t know why she had the painting, I couldn’t imagine that she’d be able to look at it without similar thoughts.

  But she’d still owned it. Which meant she wasn’t ready to let it go.

  And if she wasn’t ready to let it go, then she was damn well going to look at it. Even if it made her uncomfortable. Especially if it made her uncomfortable.

  “No,” I said after several beats.

  Her head jerked up in surprise. “What?”

  “You heard me. I won’t take it down.”

  “Then I can’t sleep in here. You can’t expect that.” She started back toward the door to the adjoining room.

  But I was in her way, and I caught her as she tried to pass. Bending her arms behind her, I held her wrists at the small of her back. “I do expect you to sleep here, and you will.”

  “Like hell I will.” She struggled to escape which only led me to tighten my grip.

  “Celia, Celia. My little bird.” I trailed kisses along her jawline, and though she was hesitant at first, she began to melt into my caress. “You remember what you are to me, right?”

  Her brows creased as she tried to figure out what I was after.

  “Everything. You’re everything to me. And I will do anything to protect you, to keep you safe from the monsters in your past. Whatever needs to be done.”